Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 146, January 21, 1914 by Various
page 32 of 63 (50%)
page 32 of 63 (50%)
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I know that in a brief while you'll have found The house I wanted (_sic_), superbly roomy, With a fine view and every comfort crowned, A short three minutes from the Underground; Also I know that you are safe to "do" me. There will be something wrong; but you shall fill My ears with praises specious and irrelevant Of this and that; and you shall have your will, And heave a deep sigh when I've paid my bill, Having got off at last some rare white elephant. And when things happen to "The Yews" or "Planes" Left by the Joneses like a haunt of lazars; When the roof falls, or in the winter rains The dining-room breaks out in sudden blains, And every feast we have recalls BELSHAZZAR's; You shall be smiling. But you have not guessed One thing, for all your wisdom, child of Lucifer: You did not know I was a bard, whose breast Could boil with bitter language when oppressed Like a bargee's; if anything, abusiver. This is the high reward of sacred song; The minstrels' voices are like falling honey When the gods please them, but when things go wrong They speak their mind out straight, and speak it strong, Especially on points concerned with money. |
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